A Family Affair
by Ross7
Summary: Station 51's 'family' proves that raising money for their favorite charity really is all 'fun and games'.
1. Chapter 1

"**A Family Affair"**

**By Ross7**

**Chapter One**

"Are you kidding me?" Los Angeles County firefighter/paramedic, John Gage, turned his attention from Station 51's TV screen, to his closest crewmate, Chet Kelly. "A _cattle egret_?" Gage grimaced. "This is too painful to watch. A _cattle egret_? Of all the dumb answers…"

The two firemen had completed their Station assignments and were currently watching 'The Family Feud', whilst relaxing between runs. The question was 'Name a white bird.'

Kelly quickly came to the cute, blonde, female contestant's defense. "What's so dumb about it? Cattle egrets _could_ be white, yah know."

"That's beside the point, Chet. One hundred _average_ people were surveyed. How many—out of that hundred—have ever even 'heard' of a _cattle egret_—let alone 'seen' one? You have to think like those one hundred _average_ people are thinking. Not like an 'ornithologist'. The _average _person is more likely to have said a dove…or a swan…or a pelican…or a stork…or a seagu—" The rest of Gage's argument was drowned out—er, supported, rather, by a loud ***_bu-uzzzz!*_** as the pretty little lady's answer failed to find a match up on the board.

Kelly did his level best to ignore his now smugly smiling colleague.

A gloating John Gage was always hard to take.

It didn't help that dove, swan, pelican, stork and seagull all ended up on the board, either.

Gage's smug smile broadened into a smug grin.

"Since you're so sure _you_ could do so much 'better'," Chet insincerely began, "why don't you _find_ yourself a 'family'…somewhere, and then go on there? Sure. You could prob'ly make a small fortune…a very _small_ fortune," he teasingly tacked on.

John completely ignored the jibe. "That's not a bad idea…" he mumbled beneath his breath and gazed around the large, open room.

His Captain, Hank Stanley, and their engineer, Mike Stoker, were seated at the kitchen table, along with Marco Lopez.

His partner, Roy DeSoto, was busy putting the finishing touches on lunch.

Counting Kelly, the fireman had just managed to _find_ five 'brothers'.

Gage got stiffly to his feet and then headed off…to compose a couple of letters**.**

**TBC**

_**Author's note: **__Sorry for posting such a short chapter, but computer time is very limited right now. So my writing will reflect this 'lack of typing time'…for the summer months, anyway._

_:)Ross7_


	2. Chapter 2

"A Family Affair"

**Chapter Two**

One month later…

Roy DeSoto backed their rescue squad into its spot in Station 51's parking bay and then slowly reached out to turn the truck's idling engine off.

Twenty-three hours and forty-two minutes into an exceptionally hectic twenty-four-hour shift the pair had been dispatched to a 'Man down' call in a rather remote area of their district. Which meant that the two men didn't make it back to their quarters until long after the shift change.

John Gage raised the palms of his hands to his hanging head and attempted to scrub some of the weariness he was feeling from his haggard face. "Man! I'm glad we don't have to survive shifts like this all the time."

"Who says we survived?" his buddy sarcastically came back, sounding equally weary. "I don't know about you, but my body feels pretty dang _dead _right now."

Gage's still bowed head slowly swung in DeSoto's direction. "Shall I grab the defibrillator?"

The blond paramedic pretended to contemplate his partner's insincere inquiry over for a few moments. "Appreciate the offer. But I believe I'll pass on the 'shock' treatment. I'd much rather have a jolt of caffeine, than a jolt of electricity."

The right corner of his ever-helpful associate's pursed lips arched upwards just a bit. "I wouldn't be so sure about that. I, uh, wasn't all that 'awake' when I made the coffee this morning," he candidly confessed.

His companion couldn't help but smile. "Thanks for the warning. But I'm sticking with the caffeine."

Hopefully, B-Shift had made a fresh pot.

John watched in confusion as Chet Kelly suddenly exited the rec' room—still wearing his uniform. "What are you still doing here?" he asked, as the Irishman stepped up to his partner's open window.

Roy swung his head around to see who his friend was questioning.

"I have an even better question," Kelly cooly came back. "Name five guys who are _really steamed_ at John Gage: Cap, Mike, Marco…and me."

"Who's the fifth guy?" DeSoto wondered.

Chet's eyes locked upon his confused shiftmate's. "You."

Roy looked even more confused. "**I**'m not _really steamed_ at him." In fact, he wasn't 'steamed' at anybody.

Kelly looked smug. "Yeah? Well, you _will_ be…once you find out what he's done."

Gage thought back through their entire tour of duty. The only thing he could have possibly done that would have affected his fellow crewmates—in any way—was to make the coffee that morning. "What'd I do?" he lightly inquired. "Use too many scoops?"

Chet chose to remain silent.

"Not enough scoops?" John jokingly continued.

Kelly suddenly recalled the mission he'd been sent on. "The Cap wants to see you," he announced and motioned for the pair to follow him back into the rec' room.

'The Ca-ap? What is _he_ still doing here?' Gage exchanged a mystified glance with his partner. Whatever the reason was, he seriously doubted it had anything to do with the morning coffee.

Their curiosity piqued, the two men promptly vacated the parked vehicle and followed the mustached fireman into Station 51's rec' room.

* * *

The paramedics took a couple of steps into the room and then halted.

The entire A-Shift engine crew was seated at the kitchen table…along with two Fire Department 'big wigs' and a couple a' strange guys sporting twenty-five dollar haircuts and well-tailored business suits.

"What, exactly, _did_ you do?" DeSoto asked beneath his breath.

"Tell me…and we'll both know," his completely bewildered buddy whispered back.

**TBC**

_Author's note: _Again, sorry this is so short. We are currently waiting for 20 acres of rained on hay to dry, so I get to swap my big farm tractor for my little lawn tractor…and mow my 7 acres…all day. (_swoon) _

Will try to have more to read, soon_. (weather permitting)_

:) Ross7


	3. Chapter 3

"A Family Affair"

**Chapter Three**

Hank Stanley locked his gaze upon the new arrivals.

Well, upon one of them, anyway.

John suddenly felt a tad anxious.

Judging by the firm set to his jaw, and the stern look in his eyes, their Captain appeared to be plenty 'steamed', all right.

"Chief Dalbert and Chief Racine…from headquarters," his upset Captain icily introduced, and motioned to the two men seated on his left. "Mr. Webber and Mr. Talverson…from Mark Goodson Television Studios," he continued, and motioned to the two 'suits' seated on his right. "Gentlemen," Stanley's gaze returned to the recent arrivals, "these are our paramedics, Roy DeSoto and…_John Gage_," the fire officer finished, even more frigidly.

Upon hearing the coldness in the introduction their Captain had given him, John Gage's soaring spirits suddenly sagged and the huge, lopsided grin vanished from his face. 'Uh oh…'

Hank's gaze remained riveted on the 'responsible party' and his dark eyes began to narrow. "Mr. Webber and Mr. Talverson have just informed us…that **we** will be spending part of **our** next shift's break…in Hollywood…filming a television game show."

DeSoto turned to his tight-lipped friend, looking totally flabbergasted.

The entire engine crew glared up at the dark-haired paramedic, looking every bit as angry as their Captain.

John's heart suddenly sank even lower in his chest. "You guys **don't** wanna do it?"

Marco Lopez rolled his eyes. "**Now** he _asks_."

His crewmates snorted their complete concurrence with his snide aside.

The 'ganged up on' fireman quickly shifted from feeling hurt to feeling defensive. "Well I—"

"—Save your breath, John," Mike Stoker interrupted, giving voice to his displeasure. "Apparently, it's already a 'done deal'."

"But I—", Gage began again, only to be cut short by his Captain.

"—Yeah. It's a little late to be asking for **our** input, pal."

Chet Kelly stood there, sadly shaking his head. "Gage just doesn't get it, Cap. As usual, he's completely clueless…"

"This whole business was all _your_ idea, in the first place," Gage reminded his smug chum. He gave Kelly an annoyed glare of his own and then aimed an apologetic gaze at the remainder of his A-Shift 'family'. "Believe me. I get it. You guys **don't** wanna do it. Fi-ine! Then let's just forget the whole…thing." The fireman's attention suddenly focused upon their four completely bewildered visitors. "You could probably convince one of the other shifts to play," the paramedic helpfully pointed out. Then he spun on his heels and immediately took his leave.

Mr. Webber leaned toward Mr. Talverson and whispered in his left ear, "Gage was right. These guys _are_ just like a real family."

DeSoto remained more mystified than miffed.

Just writing and sending the letters had gotten Gage so excited, that, for days—er, make that for weeks, it was all he had talked about.

The blond-haired paramedic prided himself on his ability to read his buddy like an open book. So then…how on earth had his 'transparent' partner ever managed to keep this particularly exciting bit of _big news_ a complete **secret** from him? Roy's right eyebrow gradually edged upwards, as an entirely new notion began to niggle its way into his boggled brain. He directed his confused gaze, and a rather good question, toward the two big honchos from headquarters. "When did _Johnny_ find out about all of this?" He knew he'd hit on the heart of the matter, when the fire department guys and the TV studio guys each turned to the other, hoping to hear an answer.

Looks of dawning understanding, and embarrassment, immediately filled their four visitors' faces.

"We were told that the Fire Department had already informed him," Mr. Talverson announced.

Chief Dalbert exhaled an audible sigh—of remorse. "We were assured that the Studio had notified him—weeks ago."

"So," Marco began, "John couldn't discuss it with **us**…"

"…Because **he** had no knowledge of it, himself," their Captain finished for him. Stanley locked gazes with the unjustly accused's partner. "Could you go ask Gage to come back in here?"

Roy replied with a nod of his head and then left to go fetch his friend.

The remaining members of Station 51's A-Shift exchanged glum glances.

"Why didn't he just _tell_ us that he didn't know about it?" Kelly quietly inquired.

"We were so steamed, we didn't really give him much of chance to say _anything_," their engineer reminded him, his words filled with regret.

"He's gone," DeSoto breathlessly decreed, upon his prompt return.

Their Captain's troubled gaze settled upon the room's drawn blinds. "You sure?" he asked, sounding every bit as disappointed as he looked.

Roy nodded. "His Rover is no longer in the lot."

'Gage must have had a new muffler installed,' Hank silently, and rather sadly, realized, because he hadn't heard him drive by the building.

Mr. Webber considered the amount of time—and money—their studio had already invested in the project's pre-production and asked, point blank, "So-o…are you guys in?…or out?"

The Captain momentarily locked gazes with each and every one of his remaining men. "You heard the man. Are we in?…or out?"

Even though there would be no personal gain in it for them, and it would mean sacrificing one or more of their days off, A-Shift's resounding reply was unanimous.

Hank Stanley couldn't help but crack a smile. 'Ahhh,' the fire officer mused. 'The things we won't do for…_family_.'

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

"A Family Affair"

**Chapter Four**

By the time John Gage reached his apartment, the adrenaline rush he'd received, upon hearing that the 'powers that be' had approved his fire department family's application to appear on The Feud, had worn off and an unbelievable weariness had settled back into his bones.

The completely pooped paramedic took all three of his phones off the hook and hung his 'Day Sleeper' sign out on his front door knob. Then he stumbled into his bedroom and proceeded to fall face first—and fully clothed—onto his firm, but quite comfortable, orthopedic mattress.

He was so weary that even the hurt and anger had left him. Although he did slug his pillow a little harder than was necessary, to fluff its feathers up a bit.

All he seemed capable of feeling _now_ was exhaustion.

Besides, when four weeks had gone by, and he hadn't heard anything back from either headquarters, or the studio, he'd pretty much figured his whole 'firemen on The Feud' suggestion was a complete _wash_, anyway. So it really was no big deal that his 'brothers' didn't wanna play.

John mustered up the energy to manage a bitter smile and lay there, wondering how long he would have to keep telling himself that, before he finally _believed_ it. 'Oh well…' So what if the part he had written about how 'Station 51's 'family' members are always there for one another, both 'on' and 'off' duty' made him look like a complete dufuss.

The paramedic pushed the whole 'Feud' feud out of his mind. He was too pooped to hold a pity party, right then. There'd be plenty of time to feel sorry for himself later, after he'd had a few hours of blissful _sleep_…

Just as the exhausted off-duty fireman was about to drift off into La-La land, his front doorbell rang.

"Go _away_," Gage groaned and buried his head beneath his pillow.

But the doorbell kept right on ringing…and ringing…and ringing.

Extreme annoyance replaced the paramedic's extreme fatigue. He shoved himself up off of his bed and headed for his front door, to put a halt to the intrusion.

* * *

"Can't you _rea-ead_?" John angrily demanded, as he jerked his front door open. His weary eyes widened and his stiff bottom jaw suddenly went slack.

Standing there on his ground-floor apartment's front porch, were all five of his fellow firefighters.

"Yes," his Captain calmly replied. "We can read."

"Look," Gage began again, once he'd overcome his amazement, "I _said_ I was _sorry_."

"Yeah. We know," Chet Kelly assured him. "So just shut up and listen. Cuz now, it's _our_ turn." That said, he shoved his astonished shiftmate aside and invited himself in.

John just stood there, with his jaws once again gaping, as the rest of his fire department 'family' filed past him and into his apartment. He closed the front door and then followed his uninvited visitors into his living room.

* * *

"All I did was write a couple a' letters, _asking_ **if** we could go on the show. I didn't know they'd okay'ed my request…until this morning."

"Yea-eah," Hank Stanley regrettably replied. "We know. Roy, here, figured that out…right after you took off in a huff."

"We're sorry," Mike Stoker sincerely said, looking—and sounding—more than a little ashamed. "We should have given you a chance to explain."

"Yeah," Marco Lopez whole-heartedly agreed. "But we were sort of…'upset', that you would make such an important decision like that—without consulting **us** _first_."

"I would _never_ **do** that!" John assured all five of his remorseful friends.

"We realize that…_now_," his Captain quietly confessed.

Chet Kelly nodded glumly in agreement. "It's just that, at the time, we were all so _steamed _at you…well…I guess we weren't thinking too clearly."

"Hey, **I** wasn't steamed at him," Roy quickly reiterated.

John gave his _closest_ brother a grateful glance and then briefly locked gazes with the rest of his A-Shift 'family'. "Apology accepted."

The previously glum-looking group immediately perked back up a bit.

"So…" Gage tentatively began, " are they going to ask another shift to play?"

"Nope," Kelly solemnly came back.

The dark-haired paramedic looked more than a little disappointed. "Why not?"

"Because they've already got **us**," Stanley answered, with a wry, sly smile.

The men watched, as the look on their youngest brother's face went from sad…to ecstatic.

"You _sure_ you guys wanna do this?" John nervously inquired.

The guys smiled and nodded.

Gage flashed his A-Shift family a broad grin. "Great! Then, what a' yah say we all get some sleep and we'll regroup back here, later on tonight, to formulate a _plan of action_." That said—er, _suggested_, he began herding—er, shooing his brothers out of his living room.

The men exchanged slightly miffed glances and then stared disbelievingly at their bossy shiftmate.

"What's to 'formulate'?" their Captain pondered, on their way to the front door. "It's just a _game_."

"Right, Cap!" Chet Kelly insincerely agreed. "And we are so-o gonna _kick_ those sorry cops' butts!"

His fellow firefighters couldn't help but grin.

But then Marco Lopez's grin gradually vanished. "I don't get it. Why can't we just wait until we're back on shift?" he complained.

"Yeah," Mike Stoker agreed. "Why can't we do our 'planning' back at the Station?"

"Too many interruptions," John simply told them. "See yah later!" he predicted, once his uninvited, but welcome, guests were all outside. He closed the door on their frowning faces and then began heading back toward his bedroom, leaving a trail of discarded clothing in his wake.

* * *

By the time the fatigued—but deliriously happy—fireman reached his recently vacated bed, he was down to his skivvies.

The pleased-as-punch paramedic slipped between his covers and then fell instantly asleep—with an arm over his eyes…and a smile upon his face.

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

"A Family Affair"

**Chapter Five**

Over a few pizzas and a couple a' six-packs a' beer, Station 51's A-Shift family plotted, planned and 'strategized' into the wee hours of the evening.

Their 'homework' assignments were to watch every episode of 'The Family Feud' that they possibly could, just to gain a 'feel' for the show.

* * *

One week later…inside Building A, at the Mark Goodson Television Production Studios in North Hollywood…

Station 51's 'family' members had arrived—all packed into one vehicle: John Gage's Land Rover.

The 'special' contestants received their nametags and were briefed on the rules of the game—especially, the 'one hand flat on the podium—the other hand behind your back' drill.

* * *

The restless firemen left the 'Make Up' department and ventured off to explore the game show's colorful set.

Gene Wood, the show's announcer, greeted the guys as they stepped out onto the stage for the very first time. "You the cops?…or the firemen?" he wondered, unable to discern just by looking at their dress uniforms.

"We're the firemen," Captain Stanley informed him.

Mr. Wood motioned stage right, to a stepped platform covered with aquamarine carpeting. "That's were you'll be, if you want to practice posing."

"Posing?" the Captain pondered.

"Yeah," John joined in.

Apparently, their Captain had **not** done his 'homework'.

Gage, however, was not about to scold him. "Each team poses in front of their name, for a sort a' 'family photo'," he explained and pointed to a huge yellow oval on the wall behind the stepped platform. The oval, which was surrounded by an _enormous_ picture frame, had been imprinted with the name of their Fire Department 'family', **Station 51**.

The opposite side of the set had an identical picture-framed yellow oval, with **Precinct 12** imprinted upon it.

A third giant oval occupied the center of the stage. It was the 'game board'.

The guys stepped up onto the top of _their_ platform and then just stood there, looking at a complete loss.

"Should we go for 'solemn'?…or 'silly'?" Gage wondered.

"_Solemn_," all five of his fellow firefighters replied—speaking in perfect unison.

The dark-haired paramedic was more than a little disappointed to hear _that_ particular answer. "All right. Let's go over the basics again," he prompted.

The guys exhaled weary sighs, but obligingly descended the platform and then formed a football huddle.

"Remember," Gage coached his team, "they don't wanna know what _we_ think. They want to know what we think the _100 people who were surveyed_ think. And don't be in such an all-fired rush to press your buzzer. The winner is the one who gives the _best_ answer, not the _fastest_ answer." Their coach's gaze suddenly riveted upon the mustached man standing directly across from him in the huddle. "100 _average_ people were surveyed, Chet. Not 100 'above average' people. Just keep telling yourself that."

The rest of the guys all snickered.

Kelly simply rolled his eyes and nodded.

The firemen released one another's shoulders and then stuck an arm into the center of the circle they had formed, each man placing his right hand upon his brothers', palm down.

"For the LACFD Firemen's Benefit Fund," their Captain proudly pronounced.

"For the department," Stoker firmly declared.

"For Station 51," Lopez resolutely added.

"For **us**!" Kelly contributed.

'For my partner—the big kid,' DeSoto silently summed up.

"In case I forget later," the big kid began and flashed each one of his family members a warm smile, "thanks for doin' this, guys!"

The guys returned Gage's grin and then broke formation.

This was going to be fun!

Hopefully…

* * *

Soon, the members of the studio audience had filed into their seats and Gene Wood was introducing the contestants.

"All this week, on The Family Feud, we'll be featuring 'Crimefighters Versus Firefighters'. Representing the City of Los Angeles' Police Department—The 12th Precinct!"

The camera zoomed in on the six crimefighters and their comical group pose.

The crowd cheered.

"Representing the County of Los Angeles' Fire Department—Station 51!"

The camera zoomed in on the six solemn-faced firefighters, and, once again, the audience cheered and applauded.

"And now, here's our host…Richarrrrd Daaaawsonnn!"

The crowd leapt to its feet.

"Thank you. Thank you," Richard told his audience as he stepped out onto the stage, and began blowing kisses of gratitude for their standing ovation. "As Gene mentioned, it's 'Crimefighters Versus Firefighters' week here on The Feud. Let's meet our brave combatants, shall we…" He crossed the set to stand beside the top cop. "Captain Kyle Kelmutz, would you kindly introduce us to the rest of your crimefighting force, and tell us what charity you will be playing for…"

Captain Kyle beamed a broad smile back at their host. "Richard, it's my pleasure to present Detective Joseph Mendez, Detective Roger Lentz, Sergeant Ron Peterson, Patrol Officer Karen Quinley and Patrol Officer Dennis Muillier. And we are playing for L.A.'s Inner City Drug Awareness Program."

"Great cause! And what a great looking group! It's an honor to have you here," Richard assured them. He then spun around and went striding off across the stage.

"Let's meet our other courageous contestants," Dawson suggested and stepped up beside the opposing team's leader. "Captain Hank Stanley, would you care to introduce your fellow firefighters, here, and let us know who'll you'll be playing for…"

"First and foremost, our engineer, Mike Stoker. Firefighter Marco Lopez. Firefighter Chet Kelly. And our Rescue Squad crew, Firefighter/Paramedic Roy DeSoto…and Firefighter/Paramedic John Gage. We are playing in behalf of the LACFD's Firemen's Benefit Fund."

"Another noble cause, and another great looking group," Dawson declared, and promptly returned to the center of the set.

* * *

"All right…Let's play The Feud!" Richard prompted. "Captain Hank…Captain Kyle, come on up!"

The two Captains left their respective groups and stepped up to stand before Dawson. After shaking hands, their right appendages were dutifully placed flat on the top of a little buzzer-bearing podium and their left hands were placed behind their backs.

"You know the way the game is played. We surveyed one hundred people. The top 7 answers are on the board. Try to get the most popular answer." Richard paused to read aloud from one of the small cardboard cards he was carrying. "Name something yellow…"

Apparently, Captain Hank's reflexes were a tad bit faster, as his hand was the first to hit his answer button. "A banana!" he shouted, over the sound of the buzzer.

Richard turned toward the board. "We're looking for _banana_…"

Banana appeared up on the survey board, closely accompanied by a loud '_ping!_'.

"That's the number one answer. Your 'family' controls the board. Are you guys gonna pass?…or play?"

The Captain turned to shoot his crew a questioning look.

"Play!" "Pass!" "Play!" "Play!" "Play!" They shouted back.

Hank's attention returned to their host. "Richard, we are going to _play_."

Dawson escorted the Captain back over to his crew—er, _family_.

Hank received a 'high five' from his engineer, and some 'thumbs ups' from the rest of his guys.

Richard shook the next fireman's hand and read his nametag. "Mike, name something yellow…"

"The sun!" Stoker quickly came back.

"Of course. That's gotta be up there." Dawson pointed to the board. "The _sun_…"

Sun popped up on the survey board, right below banana, and there was another loud '_ping!_'

Richard moved down the line and read another nametag. "Marco," he greeted the first of two mustached firemen, and extended his hand.

Marco took it and shook it.

"Name something yellow…"

"A lemon!" Lopez promptly replied.

"That's perfectly logical. Lemon yellow is even the name of a color, if I recall correctly. Show us…a _lemon_…"

Lemon appeared, third from the top, and was accompanied by another '_ping!_'.

Dawson offered the second mustached fireman his hand. "Chet, name something yellow…"

"A coward!" Kelly proudly announced and shook their host's hand.

His brothers all turned to him and gave him strange stares.

Richard's eyebrows arched. "That's thinking a bit _outside_ the box. But…" he pointed to the board, "_coward_…"

Nothing happened up on the game board and a disheartening '**_bu-uzzzz!_**' sound filled the air.

"That's okay, Chet," Dawson assured the now forlorn looking fireman. "That was just your first strike." He moved down the line and shook hands with the first member of Captain Hank's paramedic team. "Roy…can you name something yellow?"

"Butter!" Roy readily replied.

Richard nodded approvingly and pointed to the board. "_Butter_…"

The sound of a '_ping!_' signified another successful answer.

Gage gave his partner a congratulatory pat on the back and then took and shook their host's proffered palm.

Dawson eyed the young paramedic approvingly. "John, I'm told it was _your_ letter writing campaign that sparked the whole 'Crimefighters Versus Firefighters' competition, in the first place…"

"Yeah. Well…We live—and work—_closely_ together. So it's only natural that we think of ourselves as a 'family'…of sorts. Firefighters have _always_ referred to each other as 'brothers'. I'm sure the guys in law enforcement feel the same way about _their_ coworkers."

Precinct 12's 'family' members grinned and nodded in complete agreement.

Richard smiled. "Well, we are thrilled to have you—and your 'brothers'—here with us this week."

The studio audience applauded the game show host's heartfelt statement.

Dawson reluctantly refocused his attention back to the top cardboard card in his left hand. "There are only three answers left on the board, Big John. Name something yellow…"

"A school bus," the paramedic unhesitatingly replied.

"Show us _school bus_…"

School bus appeared up on the board, and a fifth '_ping!_' filled the air.

Richard returned to the start of the line. "Captain Hank…your 'family' is doing very well. Do you happen to have another answer for us?"

"How about a taxicab?" the fire officer offered.

"Certainly. I've ridden in many 'Yellow Cab Company' cars," the game show host confessed and motioned to the board. "A _taxicab_…"

Taxicab appeared, along with a sixth '_ping!_'.

Dawson stepped back up to Stoker. "Engineer Mike, you are one answer away from winning the first round…"

"An egg yoke," the engineer confidently declared.

"An excellent answer," Dawson determined. "Whether it made our survey is yet to be seen. Show us _egg yoke_…"

The last slot on the survey board 'slid' open and a continuous '_ping!_' '_ping!_' '_ping!_' '_ping!_' '_ping!_' '_ping!_'ing filled the air.

The studio audience went ballistic.

Station 51's _family_ members jumped for joy and then gave themselves a group hug.

"Congratulations, firefighters. You guys ran the first round." Richard turned toward Camera One. "It's 'Crimefighters Versus Firefighters' all week, here on The Feud. So don't go away. Because we'll be right back with Round Two of the competition."

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

"A Family Affair"

**Chapter Six**

"All right. Time for another face off, here on The Feud," Richard announced, upon his director's prompting. "Mike…Joe, if you'll join me…"

The engineer and the detective stepped up to the center podium, shook hands and then assumed their 'proper' positions.

"The point values are now doubled, gentlemen," Dawson informed them. "One hundred people surveyed. The top 5 answers are on the board. Again, try to get the most popular answer. Name something you hope you'll never lose…"

Detective Mendez managed to ring in first, this time. "Your self-respect!"

"_Self-respect_…" Richard repeated and motioned toward the game board.

Self-respect popped up, along with a loud '_ping!_'.

"18 people agree with you, making it number 4." Dawson turned to Stoker. "Three answers can beat it…"

"Your job!" Mike told him.

"_Your job_…"

'_ping!_'

"That's number 3. Michael, you control the question. Pass? Or play?"

Stoker turned to his team.

"Play!" "Pass!" "Play!" "Play!" "Play!" They shouted back.

"Looks like we're gonna play," the engineer announced.

Dawson followed Stoker back over to his 'family' and stopped at the counter, to stand in front of Lopez.

"Your wallet!" Marco blurted out.

Richard jumped back a bit. "Is this a mugging?" he joked. "Because I think I should warn you, we have six police officers standing _right over there_…" he added and pointed to the crew from Precinct 12. He waited for the laughter to subside a bit and then redirected his right index finger toward the board. "Show us _your wallet_…"

A loud '_ping!_' sounded on the set and 'your wallet' appeared in the number two position.

"Only two answers remain," Richard realized and moved on to Kelly. "Chet, would you like me to repeat the question?"

"That won't be necessary," Chet smugly replied. "Your mind!"

Again, Richard's eyebrows arched. "I believe I may have already lost mine. Show us _your mind_…"

Kelly's brothers about fell over when 'your mind' appeared in the bottom slot, accompanied by a resounding '_ping!_'.

Chet turned to their coach and gave him a 'thumbs up'.

John just stared, disbelievingly, back at him.

Apparently, there had been a few 'above average' people in the studio audience, on the day _that_ particular survey had been taken…

"I think I've got it," Roy told Richard, as their card carrying host stepped up in front of him and then leaned across the counter. "Your life!"

"Good answer!" "Good answer!" his fellow firefighters decreed.

"Makes sense," Dawson admitted, and motioned to the board. "_Your life_…"

The top slot on the survey board 'slid' open and, once again, a continuous '_ping!_' '_ping!_' '_ping!_' '_ping!_' '_ping!_' '_ping!_'ing filled the air.

The game show host immediately turned his undivided attention to Camera Two, again. "So far, the Firefighters have been dominating the game. Will they continue to 'douse' their opponents? Or will the Crimefighters make a valiant comeback and 'lock up' the final round? Stay tuned, because we'll be _tripling _the point value. Which means, it's still _anybody's_ game."

**TBC**

**Author's note: **_Sorry for such a short chapter. Alas, farming and writing fanfiction don't mix. :(_

_Thanks to all who have taken a moment to leave feedback. Your comical comments and support are **greatly **appreciated. :)_

_:) Ross 7_


	7. Chapter 7

"A Family Affair"

**Chapter Seven**

Messages from The Feud's various sponsors were spliced into the video-tape and the game board was set up for Round Three.

Once more, the show's director directed Richard Dawson to resume play.

The game show host glanced up at the board and was mildly surprised to see that it contained more than just the usual three or four answer slots.

Normally, by the time the third round came around, they were pretty pressed for time.

Apparently, the firefighters had kept today's first taping so 'fast-paced', the producers had found themselves with plenty of time to _kill_.

* * *

Mr. Dawson wasn't the only one to notice the break in the show's routine.

Gage saw the increased number of answer slots and sent an urgent whispered message down the line. "If we get control of the question, we _gotta_ 'pass'!"

Judging by their frowns, his fellow firemen didn't care too much for their coach's latest 'play call'.

* * *

Dawson finally did as directed and aimed a grin at Camera One. "Welcome back. It's 'Firefighters Versus Crimefighters Week', here on The Feud." Richard redirected his attention to their 'special' contestants. "Everyone ready for Round Three?"

Both groups nodded and applauded.

Although, one group did so a bit uncertainly.

"Great!" Richard determined. "Then, Roger…Marco…if you'll join me…"

Lentz and Lopez left their respective 'families' and stepped up to the podium in the center of the stage.

Their host waited while the two men shook hands. "Point values are now tripled," he continued, once the contestants had assumed their proper playing positions. "100 people surveyed. The top eight answers are on the board…Name something you might possibly prick your finger on…"

Marco recalled their coach's little reminder and took an extra moment or two to 'think'.

As a result, Roger rang in first. "A thorny plant!"

The director gave Richard a 'special' wave.

"Apparently, the judges feel that you need to be more _specific_," Dawson informed the detective.

"A rosebush," the police officer clarified.

Richard pointed toward the game board. "Show us…a _rosebush…_"

A '_ping!_' announced a match. The third slot slid open and 'Rose' appeared.

Dawson directed his gaze toward the now grinning fireman. "Two answers can beat it…"

"A pin!" Lopez proudly replied.

"A _pin_…" Richard prompted and pointed toward the board.

'_ping!' 'ping!' 'ping!_'

"That's the number one answer!" Richard announced and looked at Lopez. "Are you going to play?...or pass?"

With the game's entire outcome on the line, Marco turned to his team for an answer.

His fellow firefighters glanced solemnly at one another. While they didn't necessarily agree with their coach's current plan of action, Gage's game 'strategy' _had_ gotten them this far.

Speaking of Gage…

John released his held breath and grinned, as his brothers _trustingly_—and simultaneously—replied with a resounding "**Pass**!"

"We are going to _pass_," a somewhat bewildered Lopez obligingly passed along.

Dawson gave the devious group of firefighters a deeply respectful look. "Interesting strategy," he proclaimed, and promptly headed over to the policemen.

Marco returned to his team and the group immediately went into a crouched, whispered conference.

* * *

"Ron," Richard greeted, as he took and shook the police sergeant's proffered hand. "Name something you might possibly prick your finger on…"

"Richard," Ron smugly replied, "I've patted down enough addicts to know the answer to this one…a hypodermic needle!"

"Makes sense," Dawson admitted, and pointed to the game board. "Show us a _needle_…"

Another '_ping_' was heard and the board's second slot slid open.

Dawson stepped up to their only female contestant and gallantly kissed the back of her extended hand. "Pretty Karen, would you like me to repeat the question?"

"Thanks, Richard. But, I think I've got it…a thumbtack!"

Richard reluctantly released the lovely young lady's trapped appendage and pointed toward the board. "We're looking for _thumbtack_…"

The eighth slot slid open, accompanied by yet another '_ping!_'.

"Nicely done!" Dawson commended and regrettably moved on down the line, to shake yet another male contestant's hand. "Dennis, can you think of something you might possibly prick your finger on?"

The patrol officer nodded. "I often prick my finger while pinning on…my badge!"

"Show us _badge_…" Richard prompted.

The policeman's 'cop specific' reply earned the group their first '**_bu-uzz_**!'

"Don't worry, Dennis," Dawson consoled him. "That's just your first strike." That said, the game show host headed back over to the start of the line. "Captain Kyle, do you have an answer for us?"

"Well, Richard, I spend a lot of time doing paperwork, and I'm always pricking my fingers on…staples!"

"_Staples_…" Richard repeated and aimed his gaze and his right index finger up at the game board.

No slots slid open and another loud '**_bu-uzz_**' filled the air.

"A good answer," Dawson determined. "It just didn't make our survey." He moved on to the next man. "Joseph, we meet again. Would you like me to repeat the question?"

"That won't be necessary…nails!"

"I believe you may have hit the 'nail' on the head with that answer," Richard lightly remarked and pointed to the board. "_Nails_…"

The seventh slot slid open and another '_ping_' could be heard.

"Roger," Richard solemnly greeted the second detective, "your 'family' has two strikes and there are still three answers up there. Please, tell me that you have one of them…" he sincerely urged.

"I certainly hope so, Richard," Roger replied, looking and sounding equally solemn. "How about…a piece of broken glass?"

"Please," Richard prompted, "show us _a piece of broken glass_…"

There followed an insufferable few seconds of complete silence.

Which was finally shattered by a disheartening—and rather loud—'**_bu-uzz_**'.

Well, at least it was disheartening to the cops.

* * *

The firefighters, on the other hand, found it to be a truly _wonderful_ sound! It meant that _they_ were still in the game!

"It's _your_ call, Cap," Gage informed his eldest brother.

"Gee…Thanks," Stanley insincerely said.

The conferring firemen had managed to come up with five pretty decent possibilities.

If Hank happened to pick 'wrong', they would lose the game.

He and his fellow firefighters broke formation and returned to their respective places behind their counter.

* * *

"It's time to see if your intrepid opponents' strategy has paid off," Richard declared, as he stepped across the stage.

"Captain Hank," Dawson formally addressed the fire officer, "there are three answers remaining. Do you happen to have one for us?"

"We have five, actually," the Captain glumly confessed. "This would be a whole lot easier, if we only had _one_."

Since the judges had asked the detective to be more 'specific' about a 'thorny plant', it made sense that a _second_ thorny plant had made the survey.

So Hank heaved a silent sigh and made his reply. "I guess we're gonna go with…a cactus!"

His younger brothers nodded and applauded his choice, approvingly.

The game show's savvy host couldn't help but grin. "Of course! That's _gotta_ be there! Show us a _cactus_…"

The number four slot slid open and non-stop '_ping_'ing filled the air.

Pandemonium broke out on Station 51's side of the stage.

"Congratulations, Captain!" Dawson declared and ducked clear of all the back-slapping, fist-pumping and high-fiving. "We are going to need two people to play 'Fast Money'," he informed the jubilant group of jumping firefighters.

Roy and John raised their hands.

It had been pre-determined that, if—er, _when_ Station 51's family won the first game, their paramedic team would be the ones to play for 'Fast Money'.

Dawson hauled the grinning partners aside and then turned back to face Camera One. "Stick around. Because we'll be right back, to find out how much money Station 51 will win for their charity." Richard's attention returned to the paramedics and he proceeded to pump both of their hands. "Well played, gentlemen! Well played!"

**TBC**


	8. Chapter 8

"A Family Affair"

**Chapter Eight**

One commercial-splicing break later…

The Feud's director signaled Richard Dawson that the show's live taping had begun again.

He turned to Camera Two. "Congratulations to our victors—the Los Angeles County Firefighters from Station 51. Time now to play 'Fast Money', for a chance to win $20,000.00 for their charity…" Richard turned to the tall, blond fireman, standing beside him—center-stage.

"The Los Angeles County Fire Department's Firemen's Benefit Fund," Roy obligingly filled in.

The studio audience cheered and applauded their charity.

Dawson placed his hand on the blond paramedic's left shoulder. "All right, Roy, John is backstage in a soundproof booth. He can't see, or hear, your answers. I'm going to ask you five questions. You're going to have 20 seconds to give me the most popular answers. If you can't think of anything, just say pass, and, if we have time, we'll come back to it. If you and John—together—get 200 points, you know what you win…"

"Twenty thousand dollars," Roy confidently came back.

"That's right! Give me 20 seconds on the clock. Time starts when I finish reading the first question. Name a national park…"

"Yellowstone."

"Name a luxury car…"

"Rolls Royce."

"The number of jobs the average person holds in their lifetime…"

"Three."

"Name a popular leisure activity…"

"Fishing."

"Name the most popular breed of dog in America…"

"Labrador."

"Well done, Roy!" Dawson turned to DeSoto's shiftmates. "Don't you think he did very well…"

51's guys nodded and applauded.

So did their very supportive audience.

Richard turned Roy around, so that he was now facing the game board. "Let's see if the survey agrees with my assessment. I asked you to name a national park. You said…"

1.Yellowstone

"Survey said…"

23

"I asked you to name a luxury automobile. You said…"

2.Rolls Royce

"Survey said…"

34

"I asked you to give me the number of jobs an average person has in their lifetime. You said…"

3.Three

"Survey said…"

25

"I asked you to name a popular leisure activity. You said…"

4.Fishing

"Survey said…"

12

"And, finally, I asked you to name the most popular breed of dog in America. You said…"

5.Labrador

"And the survey said…"

28

"For a grand total of…"

**122 points**

Dawson draped an arm over DeSoto's shoulders. "There. You see. I was right. You did very well, indeed! Now, you can go back over there, with your 'brothers', and we'll bring that partner of yours out here…"

Roy rejoined his Station 51 family, and was welcomed with high fives and congratulatory backslaps.

"Okay. Clear the board!" Richard commanded. "Come on out here, Big John!"

'Big John' strolled back out onto the stage and shook hands with the game show host.

"Your partner got you 122 points."

Gage's head swung in DeSoto's direction and he gave him a 'thumbs up' and a grin.

"I'm going to ask you the same five questions. You can't duplicate any of Roy's answers. If you do, you'll hear this terribly _annoying_ sound…"

_*_**_buzz! buzz!_**_*_

"And I'll say 'try again'. Because this part is a bit harder, we're going to give you 25 seconds. Now, let's remind everyone of Roy's answers…"

1. Yellowstone_**23**

2. Rolls Royce_**34**

3. Three_**25**

4. Fishing_**12**

5. Labrador_**28**

**Total Points****:122**

"Give me 25 seconds on the clock, please…There we go. All right. Time is going to start after I read the first question…What is the square root of 5,727?"

'Big John's' bottom jaw dropped open.

The audience roared with laughter.

"Rela-ax," Richard urged with an impish grin. "I was just _joking_, John. That's not the _real_ first question. I was merely attempting to ease the tension with a bit of _levity_. Let's try this one, instead. Shall we? Name a national park…"

"Yellowstone." _*_**_buzz! buzz!_**_* _"Yosemite."

"Name a luxury car…"

"Rolls Royce." _*_**_buzz! buzz!_**_* _"Mercedes."

"The number of jobs the average person holds in their lifetime…"

"Three." _*_**_buzz! buzz!_**_* _"Two."

"Name a popular leisure activity…"

"Fishing." _*_**_buzz! buzz!_**_* _"Watching TV."

"Name the most popular breed of dog in America…"

"Yellow Lab." _*_**_buzz! buzz!_**_* _"German Shepherd," the paramedic calmly replied, with a mere _moment_ remaining up on the game clock.

The audience, and his fellow firefighters, applauded his efforts.

Richard draped an arm across the dark-haired paramedic's shoulders and turned him toward the board. "You and your 'brother' must be very _close_, indeed. You managed to duplicate all five of his answers. I don't recall that ever happening before. You only needed 78 points. Do you think you pulled it off?"

"I certainly _hope_ so," Gage gulped.

"Let's find out. I asked you to name a national park. You said: Yellowstone/Yosemite. Survey said…"

16

"I asked you to name a luxury car. You said: Rolls Royce/Mercedes. Survey said…"

46

"I asked you to give me the number of jobs an average person has in their lifetime. You said: Three/Two. Survey said…"

34

"You have 196 points. You only need 4 more. I asked you to name a popular leisure activity. You said: Fishing/Watching TV. Survey said…"

42

_*ping!* *ping!* *ping!* *ping!* *ping!* *ping! * *ping!* *ping!* *ping!*_

Once again, the studio audience went wild.

John's 'brothers' came rushing out from behind their counter to congratulate him.

Richard smiled into the closest camera. "There you have it. Station 51's _family_ has just won $20,000.00 for The Firemen's Benefit Fund, and, since this is Crimefighters Versus Firefighters week, here on The Feud, that means they'll be coming back tomorrow, with a chance to win even more money for their charity."

John heard what their host said. '_Tomorrow_…yeah….right,' he sarcastically—and silently—mused.

During the last commercial break, the firemen had been informed that the second game's taping would begin in less than _fifteen minutes_.

Gage couldn't seem to stop grinning. "Hey, guys, _tomorrow_…what d'yah say we go for 'silly'?"

His big brothers exchanged 'Oh brother,' glances, and then returned his grin.

Richard Dawson waved goodbye to Camera Two…and blew his audience a big ole _kiss_.

**The End**

**Author's Note: **_Once again, a mighty big 'THANKS!' to all those who have taken a moment to leave a comment. :) Reader feedback is to a writer, what a 'super energy pill' is to Underdog. LOL! _

_We have two seventy-foot silos filled and only have 73 acres—and two more silos—to go. Weather permitting, we then get to start baling hay for the horses and calves. By the time we finish doing that, our high moisture barley will be ready to begin combining…after that, there'll be straw to bale. Once the straw is baled, it will be time to start filling the silos all over again, with second-crop. * thud* I keep threatening to have a T-shirt printed up that says:_

Why **farm**? When there are so many _easier_ ways to NOT make a living?

_LOLOLOL!_

_Weather—and time—permitting, there will be a very brief _EPILOGUE_ to this fic._

_Speaking of weather…It's been HORRIBLY 'hot', here, in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. _

_Here's hoping everyone else is enjoying an air-conditioned and waaaaaay 'less stressful' summer. ;)_

_Take care! *wave wave wave*_

_:) Ross7_


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